


To Your Tune

by VeloxVoid



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dancing, Dancing Lessons, F/F, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Girls Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Surprise Ending, Surprise Kissing, Teaching, Trans Leonie Pinelli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: After being taught dance moves by Petra, Leonie soon finds herself distracted; Petra’s beauty is far more entrancing than the dancing.When they both get caught in the rain, they find themselves having to share a tent — and a bed. It is in there that their true feelings for one another unfold.
Relationships: Petra Macneary & Leonie Pinelli, Petra Macneary/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	To Your Tune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrescentViolett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentViolett/gifts).



If Leonie could slam the door of a tent, she would have. Instead, she simply batted the canvas flap out of her way as she traipsed back to shelter, shaking her wet hair as a dog would fresh out of a bath.

That battle hadn’t gone her way. Of course, she was thankful for their victory; thankful that the Deer and all of their allies would get to see another day. She was thankful for being able to retreat back to the council tent unscatched, with only a scratch upon her thigh to worry over. Even still, a sensation of shame swirled in the pit of her stomach like a black, looming stormcloud. She was a dancer now — she had achieved her childhood dream — and yet still she’d managed to screw up.

The flimsy silk dressings of the dancer’s uniform hung sodden at her sides, plastering themselves to her limbs and drawing goosebumps to her skin. She shivered. Cold, wet, and feeling a failure, she let herself fall to her knees on the tent floor, and heaved a sigh.

At least she was out of it now. Out of the rain, which pattered against the canvas roof with an almost comforting noise. And out of that battle, which had seemed to last a lifetime. Hacking and slashing with the sword she still wasn’t comfortable with, the silks tangling around her legs as she tried to pull off the elaborate dance moves required to channel magic.

Hilda had been in trouble out on the battlefield, brought to her knees by an opponent’s shield slamming into her front. The rain had poured down relentlessly through a black sky, blurring the already-murky colour of the opposing soldiers’ armour. Leonie knew that, by summoning magic through her and releasing it in the form of dance, she could revitalise Hilda — could send her lurching to her feet again to uppercut her attacker.

And so she’d tried. Leonie had closed her eyes and felt the magic fizzle within her; if she could perform a twirl into an arabesque, she could direct the magic towards Hilda, could fill her veins with vigour.

Instead, she’d tripped over her own feet. The tacky mud of the battlefield beneath had splashed up her bare legs, and Hilda had watched with fearful eyes as her opponent had raised their axe. One of Ignatz’s arrows had come to her rescue. The silver-tipped missile had bitten through a weak spot in their armour, and they had collapsed to the ground, just as Leonie had.

She had failed the Golden Deer. All those months ago, Claude had assured her that being the team’s dancer would be a good idea; she was agile, determined, and strong. She could do it. She'd been wanting to do it her whole life.

But as she stood dripping in her tent, hearing the downpour beat against the canvas roof, she felt completely and utterly useless.

This was all Leonie had ever wanted to do — what she felt she was  _ born _ to do. Before now, she'd never gotten a chance. Her childhood had been full of lies and deceit; she had been forced into an identity she’d never wanted, made to be someone she knew she wasn't. Dancing was too "feminine" — she had to find a hobby more "boyish".

Now, she was Leonie. She was a woman, loved and respected by her peers, and she was the dancer she’d always wanted to be.

She just wished she was good at it. No amount of training had made her more graceful, or taught her the moves she needed to truly succeed at her job.

The tent flap opened behind her, the sound of the storm outside growing louder for a split second. Leonie wiped tears she didn’t know she’d cried away from her chilly face before turning, finding the person behind her to be Petra Macneary. The woman looked beautiful in her traditional Brigidian garb, but she also looked freezing with so much bare skin on show.

Leonie stood. “Petra!” she called, watching the other woman wring rainwater from out of her ponytail. “You okay?”

“I am fine, thank you.” Petra gave her a smile — a sincere one that creased the corners of her eyes. “My question is, are you?”

Leonie felt her eyebrows waver. “Me? Of course I’m fine.”

And from the cocked eyebrow she received in return — Petra’s perfectly-crafted, angular eyebrows — Leonie knew she didn’t believe her. “I am knowing you were struggling to dance.”

“You saw that, huh?” Shame washed over her. “Was I that bad?”

Petra laughed — a musical sound. “Not bad! Not at all. I am only knowing because I used to be feeling the same way. As a little girl, in Brigid.”

Leonie approached, taking in the expression on Petra’s face: determination swimming beneath a wistful nostalgia. “How do you mean?”

“All I was wanting as a child was to dance, but it was difficult. My movements were awkward, because I was not fully taught. I was being taken away to Adrestia before I could fulfill my dream.”

Leonie smiled — she’d never spoken much to Petra before, but she realised she liked it. She liked that Petra knew how she felt. “You wanted to dance too?”

Petra stepped closer to her, golden sparks lighting up the deep brown of her eyes. “Yes! In Brigid, we have very beautiful dancers. Their clothes flow beautifully and their movements are like water. I always wanted to be like them, so I was starting to learn. Not for long, but...”

Leonie’s heart, so filled with a warm glee, began to chill at once. “You had to give it up?”

“To come to Fódlan, yes.”

Silence fell between the two women, filled only by the rain pounding against the canvas roof. Petra’s eyes, once impassioned, had fallen flat at the memory of her hostage status to Adrestia. Leonie was glad that she, and by proxy Brigid, had decided to join Claude’s side in the war, but the damage of her capture had already been done. Leonie knew all too well how difficult it was to pick up such a skill later in life. If Petra tried to pick Brigidian dancing back up, perhaps she would struggle just as much as Leonie was struggling to learn Fódlan-style dancing.

“I’m so sorry,” she offered at last, her voice drowned out by the volume of the rain.

“Do not be.” In return, Petra gave her a sad smile. “I enjoyed the short time I got to dance in Brigid… even if I was bad at it.”

“No way were you bad!” Instinctually, Leonie’s hand came up to give Petra’s shoulder a joking nudge. Despite the cold outside, and the raindrops still beaded upon her bare skin, the woman was warm. Her skin effused a gentle, soothing heat, and Leonie found her fingers lingering. Her eyes looked deep into the dark pools of Petra’s own. “I’ll bet you’re a beautiful dancer.”

Petra glanced down at her shoulder — at Leonie’s chilly fingers, still covered by the shimmering rings her dancer’s dress required. Taking Leonie aback slightly, Petra’s own hand came up to join Leonie’s, enveloping the shivering fingers in her warmth. “I can teach you, if you’d like?”

Leonie’s mouth became dry as her lips parted. “You’ll… teach me Brigidian dance?”

“If you would like.” She cocked her head, and her hand squeezed comfortingly. “But I am not the greatest.”

“Sure.” Leonie cleared her throat. “I’d love that.”

The council tent was plenty large enough with all the benches and cushions pushed to the sides of the tent. Petra lit a couple of braziers while Leonie fished around in the chests, finding dry, warm clothes for them both. 

“I look strange in these odd Fódlan clothes,” remarked Petra as she tied her hair back into a tight bun atop her head. “My limbs are feeling stiff.”

The fur-lined golden doublet and cuffed black trousers were flattered nobody; Leonie wore them too, so she didn’t mind too much. Even so, Petra made them look positively beautiful as they adhered to the hourglass contours of her body, and Leonie couldn’t resist flashing her a grin. “You look great in them!”

“Your compliments are wasted.” Petra frowned and pulled the doublet further down to her waist.

“Unfortunately there’s nothing else to wear in here,” Leonie shrugged, “so it’s either that or nothing!”

She blushed at once as the last words left her mouth. She truly hadn’t meant them to come out as crass — merely a joke — but they made Petra bubble over with her delightful, high-pitched giggle.

“Never mind! This is being much better than the other option!” she managed through laughs.

Her joy at something so silly — her unabating happiness leaking out in the form of laughter — was so,  _ so _ welcome. During this war, sorrow had reigned; loss had manifested as physical pain, and the hopelessness was etched into every passing soldier’s face. To see a smile light up Petra’s face, stifling her giggles with her hands over her mouth, was positively adorable. It made Leonie laugh too.

“Alright, alright, I messed up,” she said at last, watching Petra bat abashed eyelashes at her. “Forget I said that.”

“Not in a hurry,” Petra replied.

_ Huh?  _ Leonie felt her cheeks begin to flush a little, but Petra spoke up again once more.

“So! Brigidian dance. Are you ready?”

Leonie shook the distractions from her mind. Dance. Getting better. Improving for the sake of the Deer. “I am!”

She easily became distracted again. When Petra demonstrated the moves, Leonie became entranced.

Brigidian dance involved every limb moving as one, creating a dance that flowed easily. Petra was graceful; her body was lithe, and she moved as if she were fluid. She relied not on elaborate twists and flexes, but on slow, gliding movements, her body becoming a ribbon drifting through a breeze. A leaf floating on a river.

She was perfect. She executed meandering turns into a gentle leap, and stopped. Looking up to Leonie, a blush rose beneath her cheeks.

“Sorry, I am… not practiced—”

“Are you kidding?” Leonie shook her head, unable to blink. “You were beautiful. That was incredible!”

Shock settled into Petra’s features. “No, no, I…”

“Honestly!” And Leonie reached out, taking Petra’s hands in her own. “That was amazing, Petra. Believe me.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes darted around the tent before looking bashfully up into Leonie’s. “I shall teach you?”

Those eyes were so incredible. Smooth and dark, with golden flecks shining out. “Please do.”

Hours passed by as if they were no more than mere minutes. Petra’s teaching was clear — spoken in a way that made sense. She didn’t spring into nonsensical jargon, as the teacher had at Garreg Mach, but worked patiently with Leonie until she understood. Occasionally, she would take Leonie’s hands in her own, directing her in the right path.

“Those are all the moves I am really knowing,” Petra said at last, a few curls falling loose from the bun atop her head. “Tomorrow I can help you practise them more.”

“Tomorrow?” asked Leonie, wiping sweat from her brow.

“It is almost sunset!” exclaimed Petra.

Leonie blinked in surprise. “Time passes so quickly when you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I am glad you were enjoying,” Petra smiled. She passed to a bench, picking up her clothes and holding them in front of her. “Still wet.”

And Leonie looked upwards, hearing yet more rain against the canvas. “And still raining. At least it’s not as bad as before.” The noise was not as constant — not as heavy as it once had been. It was still worse than usual, but thankfully had moved past torrential.

“Tomorrow is a free day. Shall we dance here more tomorrow?”

“I could keep dancing all night, honestly,” Leonie admitted.

It brought a laugh to Petra’s lips. “It is certainly fun. I have not danced for years, but you are making it so... enjoyable. And you are good at it, too!”

“Aw, you don’t have to say that.” Leonie felt her face heating. Usually, she revelled in compliments — lapped them up, always ready to hear more — but hearing them from Petra? From the amazing woman before her, so talented and strong and yet incredibly graceful? Leonie felt her heart begin to flutter as it sent a blush to her cheeks.

When Petra winked at her, her stomach flipped. “It is true. Come, let us leave.”

After rearranging the council tent’s furniture, grabbing their half-dry clothes, and extinguishing the braziers, the women stepped outside into the camp beyond. Their boots sank into the marshy grass beneath them at once. Leonie lifted a leg, and heard a deep sucking sound as the mud clung onto the sole of her shoe. Petra giggled at the noise.

“Real mature!” Leonie giggled, holding her dancer’s uniform over her head to shield her from the rain. The drops fell down on them gently as they walked through the camp back to their tents. “Your tent is just a few away from mine, right?”

“That is depending on where your tent is, Leonie.” Petra looked sly — cunning — as she shot Leonie a smirk. Despite the low light, the sun setting to cast a dusky indigo haze through the sky, she looked stunning.

“It’s with the rest of the Golden Deer tents, just behind the night watch’s fire,” Leonie told her, raising her voice over the clattering sound of the rain.

“Then yes, it is very close to mine—!” She stopped as thunder rumbled overhead — a fierce, booming clap that made her stop in her tracks, looking up to the sky. Clouds were swirling above, creating a murk over the purple colour to the sky.

Leonie raised an eyebrow. “Man, that was—”

The rain came down all at once. As if a lever had been pulled, the raindrops became ten times larger, and came down ten times faster. They hammered against the thick material of the women’s clothes and made them both squeal in unison.

“Hurry!” shouted Petra, taking off at a run through the marshy grass.

Leonie did not hesitate. She kept up with Petra’s pace, splashing through the mud beneath as they wound their way through the camp. They passed startled horses that reared as lightning irradiated the sky, and fled past soldiers working hurriedly to shield their fires from the downpour.

“Quick! Take cover!” Leonie giggled, pointing to where her tent sat at one corner of the camp. They ran towards it, and Leonie dove through the flap onto the damp canvas beneath.

“You are sure!?” asked Petra, holding one hand above her head as if that might shelter her from the rain.

Leonie ushered her inside vigorously, laughing all the while. “Get in!”

Petra obeyed. Leonie sat aside as Petra crawled through, and the two sat in the flap together as they untied their boots and took them off.

“At least my socks are keeping dry!” Petra announced.

“Definitely!” agreed Leonie, pulling her legs back into the tent. Afterwards, she shuffled backwards onto the pile of furs and blankets that she called a bed, and grabbed onto a particularly rough blanket. “Here,” she said, passing it to Petra. “Dry yourself off!”

“Thank you,” Petra replied, and began to pat her legs down with the scratchy material.

Leonie busied herself inside her cramped little tent; it was scarcely large enough to house herself, never mind two people. She didn’t mind, though. Another body inside the tent meant it would be warmer.

“Feel free to stay here until the rain wears off,” she said, finding her little clothes pile beneath her pillows. She extracted from it two pairs of underclothes, and then thought to herself. Would it be odd of her to offer Petra her clothes? Her own were already damp and heavy from the few seconds of rain they’d had to endure, so she imagined Petra’s were the same. She didn’t want her to sit shivering in soggy clothes, but would it come across as rude or creepy to offer her to change into them…?

She supposed there was only one way to find out.

“Say, I don’t mean to be weird, but—” But when she glanced back over, she stopped in her tracks — had to draw a breath.

Petra had released her hair from its messy bun, and it now lay loose around her shoulders and chest in tight burgundy waves. Leonie hadn’t seen her hair loose before, but it looked astounding — breathtaking.

Petra looked over her shoulder, blinking at Leonie with her wide doe’s eyes. “Yes?” she asked expectantly.

Leonie shook herself from her stupor. “Oh, yeah. I was just going to ask… would you like to change into something comfier? And… drier?”

Petra chuckled. “I would love to! If you are not minding, that is.”

“No.” Leonie found herself smiling. She hadn’t expected such a response. “Not at all.”

She handed Petra a pile of the clothes, took the others for herself, and then turned around to face away from her. Getting dressed in the tent had never been easy at the best of times, but with another person squashed up against her, also getting dressed, she found herself receiving an elbow to the ribs. She giggled, Petra gave an abashed apology, and they continued changing into their makeshift pyjamas.

“I am being decent,” Petra announced just as Leonie finished straightening her socks.

“Me too!” she said, and the two young women shuffled around to face each other.

Petra nosied around the tent, dimly lit by the flickering flames of the firelight behind the tent. “You have good sense of decoration,” she said, giving an impressed nod.

Leonie raised an eyebrow; her tent contained nothing but a pile of furs. “What does that mean?”

“This tent is identical to mine! Which means it must be  _ great _ decoration!”

_ “Everyone’s _ tents are identical!” She couldn’t resist laughing at the other woman’s humour, nudging her in the ribs.

Another clap of thunder overhead made them both jump, giving relieved chuckles afterwards.

“Doesn’t sound like the rain is going away any time soon, does it?” Leonie murmured, listening to it pound against the roof.

“Not exactly,” breathed Petra beneath a little laugh.

Silence fell between the two of them. Night was encroaching fast, and Leonie was beginning to grow a little drowsy. The battle had made adrenaline surge through her body, and channeling magic through her veins always exhausted her. Dancing on top of that made her muscles ache, and afterwards she’d only engaged in  _ more _ dancing, challenging her brain to learn different gestures and methods of movement.

She was borderline fatigued, she realised as a headache began to pulsate behind her eyelids.

But she couldn’t exactly throw Petra out to get some shut-eye. She pressed her lips together, watching Petra weave a little braid into her hair. “Hey,” she began, watching the other woman look up at her. “Since the rain keeps coming down, would you like to maybe… stay here for the night?”

Petra’s full lips parted slightly, shock overcoming her face. Leonie grit her teeth, suppressing a swear word. Why would she say something so strange? She and Petra were merely teammates — two members of the Golden Deer. Why in Fódlan would she ever want to stay with Leonie overnight—?

“That would be being nice,” said Petra, giving a nod and a shy smile. “Thank you, Leonie.”

Leonie released a breath she didn’t realised she’d been holding. That was not the response she’d expected. But her muscles were weary, her eyelids heavy, and she found herself shuffling backwards and making her way beneath the furs. She gestured for Petra to join her, and the dancer from Brigid did.

Sheepishly, she crawled into the nest of blankets Leonie had created and rested her head upon the pillow, her hair surrounding her face in a burgundy halo. Laying next to her, facing her, Leonie found her heart pounding a hundred miles an hour, nerves twisting in her stomach.

Petra’s face was drowned in shadow inside this tent, the only illumination coming from the fire burning behind them outside, yet still she looked so beautiful. The shade highlighted all of the angles to her face — the incredible sharpness to her cheekbones and jaw, the way her nose curled slightly at the tip. The rounded almond shape to her eyes, and her long eyelashes fluttering gently over irises of smooth, melted chocolate.

Leonie closed her eyes, willing her mind to stop conjuring images of the other woman. She needed to sleep, not to grow even  _ more _ agitated.

“Today was fun,” Petra whispered, her voice as sweet as a breath of wind. “After the battle of course. I mean… dancing with you was fun.”

Those words made Leonie’s heart flutter. “It was great, wasn’t it?” she responded, opening her eyes to see Petra’s smile.

“You truly are great at it, Leonie,” Petra insisted. “At dancing. And… at other things.”

Butterflies began to swarm throughout her, and she felt her eyes begin to widen. “What do you mean, other things?”

Petra gave as much of a shrug as she could beneath the heavy furs. “I am… finding myself enjoying your company. I always knew I would, but… I could never seem to find courage to talk to you before.”

Leonie didn’t comprehend. “How?” she asked simply. “Petra, I’m the one who finds it hard to talk to you! You’re so incredibly talented, both at fighting and at softer things—”

“Softer things?” Petra rested her head on her arm, looking interestedly at Leonie.

“You know…” Anxiety rose in the pit of her stomach to mingle with the butterflies. “Not only your dancing, which is beautiful, but the way you teach as well. You’re so gentle and understanding and patient, never pushy...” The next words escaped without her meaning them to, slipping from her lips as though desperate to be heard. “You’re so lovely, Petra.”

The woman simply looked at her with a soft expression, blinking through those gorgeous dark eyelashes. “I think you are lovely too, Leonie.”

All of her muscles seemed to relax as the anxious feeling in her stomach exploded. Leonie felt as if she were lighter than air — floating with those few simple words echoing in her mind.

_ I think you are lovely too, Leonie. _

Leonie realised suddenly that she felt more than just admiration for Petra Macneary. The butterflies teasing her all night were not simply because she was in awe of Petra’s talents. She felt this way because she  _ liked _ her.

She had never felt this way about anybody before. Previously, Leonie had always been too caught up in her own dreams — being the woman she knew she was, becoming a dancer, matching Jeralt’s power, doing her best for Claude — to think about anybody in a romantic sense. But this feeling could be nothing else, she realised; the nerves that twanged in the pit of her stomach in Petra’s presence, the nervousness she felt speaking her mind around her, the giddiness that danced in her mind upon locking eyes with her…

Leonie had never experienced a crush before. Not until now.

Petra shivering suddenly snapped her from her thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Leonie asked as the other woman shuddered.

“The cold is just hitting me all of a sudden!” Petra said through chattering teeth. “I will be fine, do not worry.”

Instinctually, Leonie reached out a hand and began to rub Petra’s upper arm in an attempt to warm her. “Sorry my tent is so damn cold,” she muttered. “You think it’d be warmer this close to the fire.”

“It is probably the weather—”

As if on cue, thunder cracked through the sky like a whip, a loud and tumultuous crash followed by rumbles for moments after. Without being able to control them, Leonie’s muscles leapt, and she felt her body press in against Petra’s own. She buried her face in the sweet scent of her hair, and felt Petra’s arms wrap around her.

They held each other like that long after the thunder stopped. Petra’s face was hot, pressed against Leonie’s neck and breathing softly into it. Her arms held her tight, palms pressed against her shoulders, one leg resting over one of her own. Then, the only thunder came in the form of Leonie’s heartbeat; it was clamorous in her ears, and she hoped desperately that Petra couldn’t feel it.

It felt like hours before Petra eventually pulled away, still holding onto Leonie, their faces mere centimeters from the other’s.

“This is keeping me warm,” Petra whispered, drawing quivers to each inch of Leonie’s skin.

She tried her hardest to keep still, to not shudder with nerves and fear and the pure, unbridled attraction she felt rising within her.

Petra looked into each of Leonie’s eyes, her own so dark and intense. Her lips parted, and she licked them with the tip of her tongue.

Leonie couldn’t resist. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning gently into Petra’s face, and pressing her lips against Petra’s own. They were so warm and soft — wet and welcoming, opening up to kiss back as she tilted her head to find a better angle.

The butterflies were back, bursting in the pit of Leonie’s stomach, slowly creeping lower and lower as she felt Petra’s hands slide down her back. As if by instinct, she reached up to hold onto Petra’s face, thumbs stroking the smooth skin around her jaw, tilting her head once more to enjoy each angle.

Petra broke their kiss to speak into Leonie’s mouth. “I have wanted to do this all day.” And she joined them again, initiating a kiss more fervent than the last as her hands gripped onto Leonie’s waist.

“Goddess,” Leonie gasped once they broke apart once more. She stared into Petra’s eyes, watching flames dance within. “So have I.”

“Can I... stay in your tent more often?” Petra asked softly, her breath hot against Leonie’s lips.

Leonie lay stunned for the shortest of moments, incapable of believing what was happening. “Absolutely,” she breathed back at last, smiling before pulling Petra in close again and kissing her hard.


End file.
